A Two-Way Street
by SchaferHund
Summary: A dog named Butch is confronted with contemporary social and moral issues. In the end, will he do the right thing?
1. The East Alley

**_Author's Note: This story will most likely contain lots of violence, everything associated with violence, coarse language, and suggestive themes. I suggest only adults users (+18) read this. The goal is to create a unique story and writing style based on two things; crime & justice, wants/addictions & friendship. The story will portray things that we can be ignorant to by using, for example, dogs. Critical thinking may be need to decipher some stuff, since I've hidden things within other meanings and I've left a lot of stuff unclear on purpose._**

 ** _Author's Disclaimers: This is my first story and my English might not be up to par. I was barely able to keep my head above water in that class since kindergarten. If you find some kind of error, something I can improve on, or other construction criticism, I'll happily take your advice._**

* * *

Butch slowly walked over to him. He didn't need to race over there so quickly. It was much more intimidating showing that he had the patience to kill the mutt in front of him. Of course, by now the dog in front of him was on his back, shaking form time to time while he tried to hold back his tears. He failed...miserably. Butch clanged his claws on the ground as he moved forward, which made his prey burst into an uncontrollable sob. Butch finally made it to his destination, the sobbing dog. _He acts like I'm gonna kill him._

"Please don't kill me!", the dog cried out.

Butch sighed. These dogs don't seem to even understand how this business works. If Butch killed him now, he obviously wouldn't get his money. Well...sort of his money; his cut anyway.

"Why should I let you live? You were late on your payments.", Butch growled. He moved his claw-infested paw up from the desperate dog's stomach to his throat, giving him a couple of superficial scratch. _That should help get the point across._

"I know of a job! Tonight! Please, I'll get all of the money and more! I swear! Please, just one more day!", the bleeding dog pleaded.

"I dunno, I still have to hurt you bad.", Butch said intimidatingly, "Maybe I'll break a hind leg or-"

"No please! One more day! Honest to God!", the pitiful dog begged.

"Well...If I break you, you might not be able to do that job. Hmm... You got one day Bear and I mean _one_ day!", Butch said.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! You don't-", Bear said.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, shut up and get out of here.", Butch said, slightly annoyed. "And if you don't show up with the money tomorrow you're as good as a dead dog."

Bear scampered out of the alleyway as fast as he could, obviously thankful that he wasn't limping his way out of there. Butch went back to worrying about his own job. If Bear doesn't repay the promised amount, Butch won't get his cut. Worse, his boss wouldn't get his money. It could get even worse if Butch's boss finds out that he didn't hurt Bear as much as Butch should have. _I should have at least broke his nose._

Butch darted out of the alley. This wasn't the ideal place to be intimidating a dog, especially when the downtown area was well protected by the cops. Butch quickly fluffed the thought off as he got mixed up with the crowds walking down the semi-busy streets. He made his way down the street, with no obvious direction or destination. He was in deep thought about dinner, until he was interrupt by an army of water drops against his fur coat. _Rain_. Butch sighed. He started to look for some kind of shelter. A bar, a restaurant, an abandon building, even a bus stop. The rain intensified. _Well, it can get a lot worse than this_. Butch saw it, a small pizza place. _Beats nothin'_. He went for it, quickly getting inside.

Butch was immediately hit by a million different smells. He didn't wait to be seated, instead he just trotted over to to the bar and took a seat. _Don't get drunk right now...not while you have work to do_. Butch cringed at his own thought, but his thought was right. He can't be staggering down the streets, let alone be caught by the boss. His boss had a strict fitness policy. No alcohol, nicotine, or other drugs. He wanted his dogs in the best shape possible, most likely to keep his enemies at bay.

"What'll you have?", the bartender said, breaking Butch's train of thought.

"Just a pop.", Butch spat out painfully.

"Coke?", the bartender questioned.

"Yeah.", Butch replied.

The bartender was quick with the pop, delivering a refreshingly cold bottle of Coca-Cola. Butch drunk it at a normal pace, which wasn't too greedily. He just wanted somewhere to stay without getting kicked out for loitering. He looked up to see if the Lions game was on, but it was Saturday, not Sunday. He sighed once again. At least the rain stopped. Butch payed for his drink and left.

Outside the air was soggy. It hadn't rained much, but there was a lot of water on the roads. Butch shook his head. _I need to get to the meeting and then hit the sack_. Butch continued down the street, heading toward his meeting. He wasn't too thrilled about the meeting, rather he was heading that way because his car was there.

Butch made some progress down the street, but got lost in thought after he looked down at one of the puddles. He saw his reflection. He was large, at least a hundred pounds of death. To the eye he looked like a German Shepard Dog, although he was once told he had a tad bit of another breed. It didn't matter to him, he looked like a GSD, acted like a GSD, and smelled like a GSD. For all he cared, he was 100% GSD.

Butch caught himself. He needed to keep moving. Butch looked over his back, looking for any wannabe assailants or his boss. It started to rain again, this time a lot heavier. _Can't get much worse now_. He got near the meeting spot, but his boss was there. _I guess it can_.

"Shit.", Butch muttered under his breath.

Butch's boss must have spotted him, since he was heading his way. Butch swore some more before he made a break for it. He ran down some unfamiliar streets, zigzagging around the place.

"Butch!", a sound rung out, most likely belonging to Butch's Boss.

Butch stopped and looked around, panting for air. It was getting dark and he could hide somewhere, till the darkness could conceal his escape. Butch began running again, until he found it. A small, run downed bar called the _Golden Dog_. It was hard to spot, with the old sign fading out so the Golden Retriever logo was hard to make out. _Perfect, the boss will never find me here_! Butch let out a rare smile and hopped into the bar, at least he was hopeful it was a bar.


	2. The Golden Dog

Butch was right, this was a bar. A little bar. He counted at most a dozen patrons. _I wonder how many they have at 10 A.M._ The amount of customers wasn't as large as Butch hoped for, but it would have to do. If he moved now, his boss would definitely catch him. Butch took a moment to let out a sigh before he moved up to the bar counter. The bartender looked up at Butch and muttered some inaudible words.

"I'll have a pint of anything.", Butch said.

The bartender left and a minute later and came back with a pint of Budweiser. _I can just stay here a couple hours and drink it out._ Butch thought that over. _And I'll only have a few beers._ Butch thought again. _Just two._ Butch knew the longer he stayed here the more he would drink. He needed to leave when the darkness would cover him in the dark streets and before he got drunk.

Butch turned his attention to the patrons around him. He noticed that some of them had taken interest in him. A large dog with a black coat, maybe a Belgian Sheepdog, was just staring at him the entire time. Butch shifted in discomfort and then looked away when he heard someone coming up to him. It was a large, working dog like himself. A military dog. Indeed, the dog walking towards him was a perfect stereotype of a Belgian Malinois with his short coat, covered in a light brownish color with a black mask. The dog went up to the counter and stood next to Butch, not saying a word. It took the dog a few minutes, but he finally broke the silence.

"New?", the dog said.

"What?", Butch replied.

"You new here? At this bar?", the dog restated his original question in a more descriptive way.

"Maybe.", Butch said.

The Malinois hesitated for a minute. "There's a group of us right over there." He took a second to point out the table, the one that almost seated half of the dogs in the bar. "You're welcomed to join use if you want." And just like that, the Malinois coolly walked back to his table. He would have been silent enough to sneak away without Butch knowing it; it was the sound of his dog tags around his collar that gave him away. _So he is a military dog._ Butch ponder the dog's offer over in his head. _Beats getting drunk and wasting money all by myself._ Butch finished off the rest of his beer and made his way over to the table.

Butch looked over the five patrons sitting at the table. Of course, the Malinois was sitting there, next to a black and white Border Collie, a German Shepherd that looked they were a mutt with a decent amount of white in there coat, a tan and white Norwegian Buhund, a pure-white Polish Tatra Sheepdog, and finally a Irish Setter with a darkish red coat. It's a good thing I know all these different breeds, well at least the European ones. Butch and the rest of the dogs sat at the table in silence.

The Malinois was the first to break the silence. "I'm tank."

Butch nodded and said, "I'm Butch."

Everyone at the table nodded or said some form of greetings.

"Hiya, I'm Boss!", the Buhund said, quite proudly.

"I'm Sarah.", the German Shepherd mutt said. Unlike everyone else in the bar, he was actually a she!

"I'm Ambros", the Irish Setter said, in an unexpected Irish accent.

"Hey, I'm Bullet.", the Border Collie said in a quiet voice.

"Cześć! I'm Mikuła.", the Tatra Sheepdog, with an obvious hint of broken English and Polish words.

Butch tried to repeat the foreign words. "Chesh...Mikuwa..."

"Leave it to the Polack's to go and fuck up the alphabet.", Ambros blatantly shouted out.

Mikuła mumbled something under his breath, obviously something in Polish. Butch tried to change the escalating subject. He looked over at Tank, who was now starting to drink at a fast pace.

Butch tried to think of something. "Tank, you served?"

Everyone at the table stopped what they were doing and looked up. _Aww crap._ Tank nodded.

"USMC. Four years in Afghanistan. I finished out my four active years." Tank went back to drinking.

A few sighs of relief came out from the table. Butch got lucky that this didn't turn into a full blown lecture. Butch spent a few hours socializing with the group. Bullet was unemployed and looking for a job. Sarah was a cop. Butch, being kind of a criminal, quickly act like he wasn't interested in her job. _Kind of? I am._ Tank didn't talk much, just drink. Ambros didn't have much to say about himself, although he did talk a lot about others. He said that the bartender and owner of the joint was Canaan Dog named Acke who came straight from Israel. He wanted to move to the U.S. for a long time, but he never did. Eventually a rocket that destroyed his house helped speed up the process. Mikuła didn't get to say much, not because of the lack of a clear accent, but because Ambros and his mouth. _He shows a lot of patience, because I would have ripped Ambros's throat out by now. Well... maybe not in front of an off duty cop._

It was finally dark enough for Butch to make a concealed and quiet escape to his car and then home. He left quickly, of course after he payed. _Does that make me half a criminal?_ Butch shrugged the idea of, focusing on his freedom. He finally made it to his car, hopped in an drove off. The boss must have given up.

It took some time getting home, but a quick shot up Gratiot and he was home in ten minutes. Before he went inside, he inspect his house and the neighborhood. _Aluminum siding is still on the house._ Butch, now relieved that his house wasn't robbed, went in to take his much needed sleep. _What a day._


	3. The Lion's Game

Butch got it, all right. Well...sort of. Bear paid back all of the money plus some extra. _At least it was enough to get my job back._ His boss dismissed the idea of him being fired, but that wasn't what he said the day before he got his money from Bear. _It's in the past now. I've just gotta live day by day._

Sometime had past since the Bear incident. Only a few weeks, but it felt like a year to Butch. He had also got to know the dogs at _The Golden Dog_ , especially Boss, Bullet, and even Sarah. That dog in the corner still stared at Butch, though. Butch looked at the time on his phone. _Crap, I'm gonna be late._ Butch was going to up hold his promise to meet Boss and made it to the promised location and hopped out of his car happily. _I kept my promise...I guess that doesn't make me half as bad a guy._

Butch looked up at the skyscrapers and buildings defiantly towering above the earth. _Wow...that's really pretty._ Butch snapped out of his daydreaming and walked along. The downtown area was probably the only thing good the city had to offer Butch. _That's pitiful._ Butch continued on his way. It was true, the city was in deeper than it ever was. Entire city blocks are unoccupied and the population fell below 700,000. _And I'm a cause of that._ Butch tried to rationalize why. _I do it for the money, I need it to live._ Butch saw his two acquaintances and he immediately stopped bitching to himself.

"Hey.", Butch said coolly.

Boss nodded while Bullet greeted Butch, "Hey!"

Boss's lack of socialization didn't bother Butch, as Bullet had gotten more chatty since their first talks.

Butch tried his best to think of a route to go, "Where do ya wanna go?"

Boss replied in his normal tone, "How 'bout down the street?"

That wasn't the exact answer Butch was looking for, but it beats standing around. All three started trotting down the street. Butch looked down the street for a clear direction on where they were heading, but Butch stopped when he realized Bullet was talking about something.

"...and then 2009 came around and screwed my life over really good, too."

"How?", Butch questioned as they walked.

Bullet looked down at the ground, "Oh, you know. They closed down all of those factories and shit. Lost my job at a stamping plant. I can barely pay my outrageous mortgage and bills now." Bullet looked at Butch, "I _really_ need a job..." Bullet just drifted in to his thoughts and sort of lost interest in talking all together.

"Ya wanna know my problem? This place.", Butch stated, "What about you Boss, what's your problem?"

"My...problem?", Boss though for a moment, "I don't have any problems."

"Don't shit me, Boss".

"I don't have any problems."

"Yes you do, you got a lot of problems."

"Maybe it's _you_ who has a lot of problems."

 _Ouch._ Butch didn't try to press the issue. _Better give him some time to cool down._ Butch looked at a nearby clock. _God, we're gonna be late for the game._ The Lion's game. That was the whole purpose for this little outing. The three dogs made their way to the stadium before entering. After they got in, they did the various things you would normally do at a football game, of course buying a beer was on Butch's top priority.

"jeez...That's a lot of money, especially after paying for those tickets. Those tickets literally cost a foreleg and a hind leg..."

Butch felt a little discomfort over Bullet's comments. "Drinks on me." Boss happily accepted while Bullet was more reluctant. _I'm bet this doesn't make me such a bad guy._ The three of them got there drinks and head to their seats.

The game had already started and they had missed a few minutes because of their lallygagging on the streets. They were able to watch the game for the first three quarters, until out of no where Boss spoke up in his usual, cynical tone, "God sent me to Earth to fight and then go back, when I'd rather have just stayed."

Butch was a getting a little sick of all this God talk, "If God existed, would he leave use in this shitty, God awful mess?"

Boss pondered that for a minute, "Maybe not..."

Boss's response was meet in silence as the game was finishing up. The Lions lost. _Oh well._ Butch and his companions left and headed down yet another aimless route.

"This was fun", Boss interrupted, "but I have some stuff to take care of."

And just like that, Boss was gone. That was typical of Boss. _At least he's been more chatty then normal_. Butch looked over at Bullet, who was trying to fix his messed up patches of black and white fur.

"Wanna go on a walk?", Butch offered.

Bullet, caught off guard, looked at Butch. "Really? Boss just left."

"Why not?", Butch said.

"Okay, let's go.", Bullet said in a cheerful voice.

They walked in no particular direction for a good amount of time, talking about various things.

"Yeah, we should bring Sarah along next time.", Bullet suggested, "I know how fun Boss is, but he could use sometime to himself for a while. Besides, Sarah talks a lot more."

 _That's a good idea._ Butch thought about it, then he saw a weak spot in Bullet's last words.

"Do you like Sarah?", Butch teased.

Bullet tried to defend himself, "No! I mean as a friend, yeah. She's just a really good friend."

Butch kept it up, "How good?"

Bullet really tried to change the subject, "She's one of my best friends and that's it, nothing else."

"Okay, okay. She can tag along next time.", Butch stopped the teasing; Bullet was obviously embarrassed enough.

They continued to walk down the street. Bullet kind of stopped and took note of a job's wanted sign. _Bullet needs a job, bad._ Butch looked at a cloud of steam that billowed up from a manhole. _He really does._ Butch came up with a risk and bold idea, but Bullet needed a job.

"Hey Bullet, would you like a job?", Butch offered.

In an instant Bullet turned around at the sound of a job offering. "What kind of job?"


End file.
